


A Spoonful of Honey Helps the Medicine Go Down!

by Ithiliana



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiliana/pseuds/Ithiliana
Summary: Frodo is sick and Faramir has to give him his medicine!
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)
Kudos: 8





	A Spoonful of Honey Helps the Medicine Go Down!

Frodo huddled under the covers.

He'd started coughing yesterday when he'd first stepped outside. Then he'd thought nothing of it. It was spring, and perhaps the new grass and budding trees were what made his eyes water and halted his breathing. 

Then this morning, he'd awakened with a sore throat, aching all over, coughing so hard he'd woken Faramir. Worried, Faramir had insisted upon dressing and going immediately to the Houses of Healing, bringing back a sickeningly sweet syrup, red and sticky, which he'd been pouring down Frodo's throat all day. 

It tasted vile and so coated Frodo's throat that any food he had tried to eat lost its flavour. 

Sweating, he tossed the covers back, feeling the cloth of his night robe sticking to him, restless. The bed suddenly felt hard under him, the sheets wrinkled, uncomfortable.

He sat up, thinking he would go to the kitchen for some cool water.

"Frodo! No!"

Faramir crossed to his side. "You need to stay in bed," he said. 

"I'm thirsty."

"Stay here, and I'll get you some water." Faramir gently pushed Frodo back onto the pillows and pulled the bedding up, smoothing it over Frodo.

Sighing, Frodo tried to relax. Faramir soon returned with a pitcher and a full goblet, and Frodo drank the cool water gratefully. He frowned when he handed the goblet back to Faramir and saw the small cup in his hand. 

"No more," he said.

"The Healer said to dose you regularly for at least two days. Now, drink it."

Frodo pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'd rather have some tea. With honey. I'm sure it would be much better for me."

"After you drink this," Faramir promised.

Pulling the covers over his head, Frodo waited. A firm hand pulled the covers back, and Faramir sat next to him, looking stern.

"Frodo."

"It tastes vile," Frodo complained. 

"All the Healers' potions do. I think they want to encourage people to recover more quickly. Come on now, love."

Faramir leaned forward, sliding an arm around Frodo's shoulders, holding the cup to his mouth.

Clamping his lips together, Frodo shook his head. He was feeling better, suddenly, and had to fight the urge to giggle at the look on Faramir's face.

After a few moments of silence, Faramir sat back, sighing, his shoulders slumped. "Well, if you won't, you won't."

Wary, Frodo did not relax, watching Faramir closely for any sudden move.

"I don't know what the Healers will say if you get worse. They wanted me to bring you to the Houses of Healing where they could look after you, but I swore I would make sure you took your potion regularly." 

Faramir sighed so heavily Frodo thought the door would slam shut from the draft, and stood, slowly.

"Aragorn will probably be told, and I'd hate to think what Gandalf will say. He'll no doubt show up and insist on taking you to the Houses to look after you himself. Who knows how long he'll insist on keeping you there. And just when I was planning a lovely mushroom casserole for our daymeal. I found fresh mushrooms in the market, coming back from the Houses."

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right," he said. "Give it to me."

Grimacing, he took the cup, tilting it to drink so fast that he nearly choked, the sticky stuff trickling down his face. 

Faramir patted his back, took the cup from his hand, kneeling beside the bed. "Frodo?"

"I'm all right. Now where's that tea you promised me?"

Faramir smiled, leaned forward to kiss Frodo, long and lingering, lips and tongue warm, moving down to lap Frodo's skin clean. Frodo sighed, leaned forward, but Faramir pulled back, patting his shoulder.

"I filled the kettle when I got your water," he said. "It should be nearly boiling. Give me a moment."

He left the room, and Frodo settled back under the covers to wait. He suddenly felt much better.


End file.
